Shabbat Greetings

There is something fitting about reading the double portions of Chukat/Balak (Numbers 19:1-25:9) while preparing to sit beside the ocean this evening with our friends from Monmouth Reform Temple. The Torah portions take us through the wilderness, a landscape that often feels dry, uncertain, and unforgiving. We hear about thirst, frustration, conflict, blessings, and unexpected moments of holiness. Yet we celebrate Shabbat tonight surrounded not by desert sand, but by waves that never seem to stop moving.

One of the central themes of Chukat is water. The Israelites complain that they have no water, Miriam dies, and with her passing the miraculous well that had accompanied the people disappears. Moses is commanded to speak to the rock so that water will flow, but instead he strikes it. Water eventually comes but the moment reveals something deeper than thirst.

Sometimes we think the miracle is simply getting what we need. But perhaps the greater miracle is learning how to receive God’s gifts with trust rather than fear, with gratitude rather than anger. Standing at the beach reminds us of that lesson. The ocean is abundance beyond measure. We cannot drink its water, control its tides, or stop its waves. It teaches humility. Nature constantly reminds us that we are not in charge of everything.

Then comes Balak. Balak sees Israel and becomes afraid. He hires Balaam to curse them. Yet every curse becomes a blessing. Again and again, Balaam discovers that he cannot control what God intends. And then comes one of the Torah’s most beloved verses: Mah tovu ohalecha Ya’akov, mishkenotecha Yisrael – “How beautiful are your tents, O Jacob, your dwelling places, O Israel.” (24:5) The irony is remarkable. One of Judaism’s greatest prayers comes from someone who was trying to curse us.

Sometimes blessings come from unexpected places. Sometimes people see beauty in us before we see it in ourselves. That, too, feels like the beach. People come here seeking rest. Families gather. Friends reconnect. Children build sandcastles knowing the tide will wash them away. The waves remind us that not everything we create lasts forever but the love we share while creating it often does.

Shabbat invites us to stop striving and simply notice. Join with us tonight and notice the rhythm of the waves. Notice the breeze. Notice the people beside us. Notice God’s presence in creation.

The rabbis teach that the world itself sings praise to God. We don’t always hear it amid the noise of our busy lives. But on Shabbat, especially outdoors, we have a chance to listen. The ocean has been keeping Shabbat longer than we have. Every wave rises and falls according to a rhythm built into creation from the very beginning. Perhaps that’s why many people feel closer to God near the water; not because God is more present here, but because we are more present here. And as we sit by the sea today, may the endless horizon remind us that God’s possibilities are always larger than our fears, God’s blessings are always stronger than curses, and God’s peace is as constant as the rhythm of the waves.

SHABBAT SHALOM